


That one with the CIA

by allwhere



Series: The CIA [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: CIA, F/M, Family, Italian Mafia, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Spencer Reid Doesn't Work for the BAU, Spies & Secret Agents, Teenagers, Timeline What Timeline, Torture, Undercover, Young Spencer Reid, elle and gideon never existed, is reid in this who knows, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allwhere/pseuds/allwhere
Summary: Before Morgan could reach the end of his sentence; the boy had stood. In a split second, he grabbed the gun from Morgans hand and forced him onto the floor with his arm twisted behind him and gun digging into the back of his skull."Agent Morgan, how nice it is to see you again."Or that one where the BAU are asked to work with the CIA and meet a team of highly trained ... teenagers?Part of the CIA series //not finished (yet)//Active
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The CIA [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014399
Comments: 11
Kudos: 64





	1. First meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for the horrendously Google-translated Italian, the translations are in brackets at the bottom of the section.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan and Prentiss meet some Mafia member a little too young for their liking.

Lorenzo Bianchi found dead in the back alley by the morning shift of the bakery next door," The coroner relayed to the two agents standing next to the body.

"Are you sure it's him?"

"There's some - um-  _ family, _ members coming to identify the body."

"Are they also members of the mob?"

"I have to assume so, yes," the man sighed and glanced behind the Agents to the doorway "Here they are now."

As the Agents turned around the last thing they were expecting were two kids, no older than 18, with serious looks on their faces to walk through the door. A tall and immensely skinny boy dressed smartly in a black suit and a girl with her hand resting on the crook of his elbow wearing a tight black dress which hugged her every curve. The boy had curly just past ear length sandy brown hair, and the girl had straight shoulder-length dark brown hair. At closer inspection, the Agents could see a revolver just showing under the boy's jacket and a handgun carefully strapped to the girl's thigh. With their heads lowered, they stepped around the agents and greeted the coroner.

"Micheal, thank you so much for taking care of him for us," The girl smiled at him. 

"Emaline, Issac," He nodded to them, "I'm so sorry for your loss." 

"We're ready to see him now," the boy moved his arm to be around the girl's waist.

"Micheal nodded and pulled back the sheet. The boy's face stayed stern as he straightened slightly and averted his eyes from his dead friend as the girl's eyes softened and hand covered her mouth. 

"That's him." The boy said finally as the sheet was replaced over the dead man's body. 

"Agents," The girl started as she turned towards them "I assume you're here to investigate our darling Lorenzo's death."

"Yes, we are," One Agent extended his hand "I'm Agent Morgan."

"And I'm Agent Prentiss, is it okay if we could ask you some questions?"

"Of course," The boy answered "Anything for the BAU."

After around an hour of questioning the couple, the Agents reconvened with the rest of their team. 

"Hotch, those kids are far to young to be that involved in the Italian Mafia!" Morgan exclaimed to his boss, "It's insane, they're just kids, they shouldn't be IDing, what appears to  ** not ** be their first body."

"It's true, Hotch," Prentiss added. "I've never seen high-level mob involvement so young, something does seem off."

"And that kid, Issac, he knew we were from the BAU Hotch, tell me that's not weird." 

"Morgan, Prentiss, did they know anything that could help the investigation?" Hotch replied

"Other than some names no, they gave us quite the run-around." 

"Then cut them loose." 

"But-"

"No but's Morgan, let them go."


	2. One year later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BAU are requested by the CIA, Morgan has his suspicions.

"Thank you and your team, Agent Hotchner." 

"Really, its no problem Director, we're always happy to help the CIA."

Agent Hotchner put the phone down and went to gather his team. Soon enough, the five other members were sat around the table as he started up the video call.

"...Operative three will be arriving shortly to escort you to the plane, Operatives one and two are waiting. I will meet you there," The Director on the screen said, "I assume you all have go-bags?"

"Yes, Sir," Hotch answered, "We'll see you shortly."

With that, the call ended, all eyes fell on Hotchner. 

"CIA? Really Hotch?" Rossi enquired. 

"I got a call around an hour ago explaining that they want our help on a case we previously worked."

"Which case?" Garcia quickly asked. 

"Yeah, I don't remember doing nothin' with the CIA," Morgan interjected.

"They didn't say," Hotch answered calmly. 

"Doesn't that seem a little weird to you Hotch?" Rossi asked, but before he could answer the door opened. 

"Agents, I'm Operative three, I'm here to escort you to the plane." 

As Operative three led the team from the front, the team members at the back were questioning what was happening. 

"Does any of this seem a little weird to you guys?" JJ whispered to the group. "The kid already outranks everyone but Hotch, and he barely looks 20."

"Not to mention he seems to be called 'Operative three'," Prentiss added.

"Yeah, how young are the CIA hiring nowadays," JJ replied.

"That's if they  ** are ** CIA," Morgan spoke from behind them. 

"You're not seriously still on that are you?" Prentiss sighed.

***

Morgan was the last one to step onto the plane. As he scanned his eyes over the cabin, they landed on the couple sat on the sofa next to him. Immediately he drew his gun on the boy, everyone on the plane glanced over. Before the team could react, they had the remaining two Operatives guns trained on them. 

"Morgan," Hotch said sternly "Put the gun down."

"No, Hotch! this guy, last year, he came to Id the body of a member of the Italian mafia, I knew this was suspi-" 

Before Morgan could reach the end of his sentence; the boy had stood. In a split second, he grabbed the gun from Morgans hand and forced him onto the floor with his arm twisted behind him and gun digging into the back of his skull. 

"Agent Morgan, how nice it is to see you again."

***

The Agents were frozen, they stared at Morgan with their hands raised, from where they were stood they were trapped between two standard-issue handguns. Every one of them was trying to profile the other three Operatives but, it was getting them effectively, nowhere. Either these guys were expertly trained to resist natural impulses that profilers cling to, or the profilers had suddenly forgotten their trade. They were all now rethinking Morgans idea that they might not actually be CIA. 

The other three Operatives were smiling to each other as they kept the guns steadied on the agents, two of them kept looking to the door, seemingly waiting for something. They didn't have to wait long, however, before the Director walked through the door.

"Operative one," The man directed to the boy on top of Morgan "Let him go." 

The boy moved off of Morgan and stood to attention at the Director's orders. The other two operatives stood stock still, faces like stone waiting for a command.

"Operative 2, Operative 3, stand down."

They too put their guns down and stood to attention. The Director, walked up to the group of Agents, now including Morgan.

"Agents, I see you've met Mercury One."

***

"...you will be briefed when you get to the base," The Director spoke to the now seated Agents. "I'm going to talk with the pilots, please feel free to introduce yourselves." He made harsh eye contact with the young Operatives as he walked to the cockpit. 

They sat in silence for a few moments before Garcia spoke up.

"My name Penelope Garcia," she held her hand out. The girl sat on the sofa, took it as did the boy who led them on the plane, however the other boy, sat firm with his arm around the girl, did not. 

"He doesn't shake hands," the girl smiled kindly at Garcia and leaned back into the boy's arms.

JJ spoke next "I'm SSA Jenifer Jareau, call me JJ."

"I'm SSA David Rossi."

"SSA Derek Morgan."

"SSA Emily Prentiss."

"And I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, please call me Hotch."

The boys stayed quiet, but the girl gave them a stern look and turned to the Agents.

"I'm Operative two."

There was a small pause before the boy sat away from the other two spoke. "I'm Operative three." There was another pause as the girl elbowed the boy next to her. 

"I'm Operative one," He said, failing to make eye contact.

"Do you guys have any proper names we can call you?" Garcia smiled sweetly at them.

"Lady." 

"Curly." 

"Sherlock," They said in turn.

"Where did they find you three? The weird names convention," Morgan laughed.

"They're not our real names," Curly shook his head lightly "Although I haven't heard my proper name for so long I'm not sure I could remember it." 

The two others, Lady and Sherlock, snickered at this. The agents looked at each other in shock, what was the CIA doing with these kids?

**

"How old are you guys?" JJ finally popped the question on everyone's minds.

"Nineteen," It was Sherlock who answered their question, he hadn't yet talked without reason and took the team by surprise.

"How long have you worked-"

"Five years," Sherlock answered again clearly taking charge, as the other two teenagers looked quietly at the floor. "Five years, 7 months and 24 days."

"So you were," Morgan began in shock " Eighteen?"

"When Lady and I met you and Agent Prentiss in New York? Yes," Sherlock looked confident and met Morgans eyes as he leaned back "Your profile was wrong by the way."

"Was it now?" Morgan played "And how would you know that kid."

Sherlock smiled "Because I ordered the hit."

**

"Hotch!" Morgan whisper hissed "He was eighteen,  ** eighteen ** and ordering hits on mafia bosses." 

The Agents had gathered around one of the tables near the rear of the plane. As the teenagers sat on the sofa at the opposite end, chatting. Sherlock sat with his long legs crossed, and arm sat protectively around Lady's waist. She animatedly talked to Curly, who was sat crossed-legged on the seat opposite. Sherlock was quietly listening in on the Agent's, conversation, keeping a watchful eye as his friends relaxed. 

"I heard Morgan," Hotch replied dejectedly "I can't do anything." 

"Well neither can we, they outrank us Hotch," Prentiss added, "They're only kids."

"I know, okay, but what do you want me to do?"

"They were  ** fourteen ** Aaron, you have to say something," Rossi almost begged. 

"I can't okay," Hotch looked at each member of his team "I know they outrank you, but I don't outrank them, there's nothing I can do."

***

A voice came over the loudspeaker. 

"Please fasten your seatbelt, we are starting our descent."

The Director had come back into the cabin a few minutes prior. "Operatives four and five will be welcoming you to the base, I have some matters to attend you I will meet with you later." He then turned to the Operatives, "Meet up with your mentors, you will spend the day training. You are complete by dinner unless you are told otherwise. Your team leader will give you new prospects tomorrow morning, keep in mind, you may be helping out the Agents so please treat them with respect." 

The Director then turned back to his paperwork, leaving the Agents in confused silence.

"Playground rules 'til dinner," Sherlock said quietly to his teammates, and they nodded in agreement.


	3. The jungle gym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Operatives train and the BAU get stuck in a conference room.

"Welcome to the Jungle Gym," A short girl with light brown hair welcomed the Agents on the runway of the Base. "I'm Operative four, Monroe and this is Operative five," she motioned to the boy next to her.

"Pinkie," He finished for her.

"Agents," The Director spoke, walking off the steps behind them. "Please leave your bags here, they will be in your rooms waiting for you." 

As the Director spoke to the Agents, Curly, Lady and Sherlock walked off the plane and went to join their teammates. 

"What are the orders?" Monroe whispered to Sherlock as he stopped next to her.

"Report, train. Playground rules 'til dinner." He muttered back 

"Oh for god's sake," She groaned back "We're not fifteen anymore."

"What about the Agents?" Pinkie asked.

"Prospects tomorrow, if they're stamped we'll probably be working with them."

"This is stupid." Lady hissed to the group 

"I know," Sherlock replied numbly.

The Operatives hummed in reply and stiffened up following Sherlock's example. The looks on their faces became neutral as the Agents turned back to them. 

"We'll show you to the conference room, after some checks, someone will come and brief you." She paused to wait for an agreement from the Agents. 

"Um," Garcia said hesitantly "Why did you call it the Jungle Gym?"

"Oh," Monroe looked like she had been caught out, but quickly recomposed herself. "It's a name given by the young trainee's, this is officially Base Taylor." 

Before any of the other Agents could speak, Monroe started leading the Agents away. The rest of the Operatives trailing behind the group. 

*** 

"This is crazy!" Morgan was pacing around the table where the rest of the profilers were sat.

"What do we do?" Garcia asked 

"Nothing, they're fully trained agents," Rossi replied defeated. 

"They don't seem especially happy to have us," Prentiss added, "Did you hear their conversation when they got off the plane?"

"What did they say?" Morgan stopped pacing.

"They were talking about 'playground rules?' and training like on the plane, one of the girls, was muttering something. Then the other boy he looked at us, and the tall one said something about us getting stamped? They really didn't seem happy about us being here." 

"Prentiss, Morgan, I've told you before," Hotch looked up from his paperwork. "We're here to work on the case not profile their agents."

"That's the problem Hotch," Morgan stressed. "Half the time we can't profile them, and we all know the kind of intense pressurised training it takes to resist natural impulses at will, it's like they can turn it on and off." 

"I'll admit it's a little weird," Hotch replied

"Those poor kids," JJ began "They've been here for five years, who knows whats happened to them."

"Not to mention at least two of them were in deep undercover, at  ** eighteen ** , maybe younger," Rossi added, "Aaron, you know this feels wrong." 

"I would have to take it up with their team leader, nevermind the fact I don't think I've met them, they outrank me."

"Wait, isn't the Director, the team leader?" Garcia asked 

"No, he's the chief of the base but not the team's direct leader," Hotch corrected "It's out of my hands."

The Agents sat in the room for almost three hours before anyone came in.

"Im so sorry for the wait, there was some,  _ issues _ , with your background checks, they should be done by tomorrow morning. For now, I will escort you to the dining hall, after that you will be shown to your rooms, then you will be free to roam the east wing."

"Thank you," Hotch nodded. 

The man began handing out cards. "These swipe cards will let you through some of our locked doors."

As the Agents were led into the dining hall, they passed by the young Operatives, missing Sherlock. 

"What did you guys have?" Curly said slumping down on the table.

"Recall." Pinkie answered mouth half full of food. 

"Gross," Monroe retorted and turned to Curly "Data logging."

"Oof unlucky," Lady said "Range training." She looked smugly at Curly "You?"

"Oh shut up," 

"I didn't say anything!"

"Backstory," He mumbled. 

"Ha!" She laughed.

A few minutes of the conversation went past before Pinkie looked up and around in confusion."Hey, where's Sherlock?" 

Lady and Curly went quiet and started halfheartedly, moving the food around on their plates.

"No?" Monroe looked at them in horror. "No, come on, he's not."

"He's in i.t.t," Curly didn't look up from his plate. 

There was silence for a few seconds whilst everyone just stared at their plates.

"...Do you think they're sending us out again?" Monroe asked 

"What?"

"No."

"Why would they?"

Three voices said all at once. 

Monroe's voice was quiet. "They only gave him isolated i.t.t before we first went out." She blinked away the tears that formed in her eyes as she spoke

"Hey." Pinkie rubbed her shoulders "He'll be fine, he's always fine."

"You'll keep an ear out?" Lady looked urgently at Curly as Pinkie comforted Monroe.

"Of course,"

"And if he wakes up?"

"You'll hear it L," Curly replied 

"And if I don't?" She looked like she was going to cry 

"If he needs you, I'll come to get you okay?"

"Okay." She tried to keep eating for a few minutes but felt too ill to finish, "Im gonna go check on him, where are you guys gonna be?" 

"Um." Pinkie looked to the others "Your room, give him some space?"

"Okay, I'll see you guys later." Lady got up from the table and headed into the hallway. She looked in every room, even the gym, before finding him at the back of the research lab.

"Hey," She sat down next to him. 

"Hi," He said quietly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah,"

"What was it?" She asked hesitantly.

"Nothing bad," He rubbed his wrists and looked down "just a taser."

" _ Gioia _ ," She said gasped, " _ Mi dispiace _ ."

" _ Non mi chiami così da secoli,"  _ He smiled a little.

" _ Avevi bisogno di ascoltarlo,"  _ She paused and looked down to the desk next to her, "What are you doing?"

"Studying."

"Oh, ...everyone's in my room, you wanna join 'em?" She asked, standing up to leave. 

"I will later," She looked at him as if to say 'don't you dare stay down here studying all night,' "I'll be an hour, two hours tops."

"An hour," She looked pointedly at him.

"An hour."

_ (I'm sorry) _

_ (You haven't called me that in ages) _

_ (You needed to hear it) _

***

"This food is crap," Morgan said, picking some of it up on his fork and watching it fall slowly back off.

"Im not touching it," Rossi answered. 

"You can go hungry then," Hotch gave them his dad look.

"I would rather starve," Rossi said defiantly.

"You do that then Dave," 

"Agents," The man who showed them to the dining hall was standing at their table, "I'll escort you to your rooms, then, if you wish, you may roam the east wing until doors shut at ten-thirty," 

The man led the agents through two corridors up the stairs, along another corridor and through a carded door before they stopped. He went along the corridor showing each Agent their room. 

"Please feel free to look around." Then said, then promptly left

"Why do they want us wandering around?" JJ whispered 

"They want us to trust them," Prentiss answered. 

"Should we?" JJ asked 

"I don't know."

Most of the team decided to stay in their rooms, but Garcia was desperate to find their computer system. She got lost at least twice before eventually finding her way into the research lab. 

"I still have fifteen minutes Lady," A young boy's voice rang out as she entered the room. "I need to finish this bit, then I'll come up."

"Wrong person-" She froze as the boy, Sherlock, immediately pulled his gun on her. 

"Shit, sorry." He looked at her and put the gun down "I was expecting Lady."

"Yeah, sorry for scaring you." 

"No problem."

She looked at his desk, "What are you working on?"

"Oh, it's my dissertation," He looked slightly embarrassed and turned back around.

"What for?" She sat down next to him, he looked surprised at her taking an interest.

"Engineering," 

"A degree in engineering, you must be smart."

"It's for my doctorate." He smiled.

"Well, you certainly live up to your namesake." She looked at her watch "I believe your friends are waiting for you." 

"Oh, yeah," He began to pack up "So, what are you doing down here?"

"Oh, I um, I wanted to see how your computer system worked." 

"I can probably show you tomorrow after we get prospects, but until you're stamped, you can't get in by yourself," He stood up to leave. "I can show you back to your room if you'd like?"

"Thank you," They started walking down the corridor "I got lost at least twice getting down here."

"Yeah, I remember when I first came took me a week to get to grips with the east wing."

"I'm not surprised," After a moment of silence "It looks fun for a kid."

"It was ...for a while," He slid his id card through the scanner, and it flashed green, "Here's your corridor," 

"Thank you." She smiled at him.

"Me, Pinkie, and Curly are down the corridor next to you on the left, Lady and Monroe are down the corridor next to us if you need anything. Goodnight."

"Night." She walked to her room. 

Sherlock walked into Lady's room to see everyone sat around. Curly was quizzing Monroe on the counter-surveillance technique flashcards stacked in his lap. Pinkie and Curly were having a competition to see who could re-load the cartridge in their gun the fastest. 

"Hey Sherly," Monroe looked up and smiled at him "Wanna do some counter-surveillance?" 

"Yeah sure," He smiled and went to sit with them. 


	4. The nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nightmare puts the BAU back on edge and Morgan finds out what conditioning is.

It was the screaming that woke the Agents, they scrambled into the hallway, all looking at each other before Morgan took off down and out the door, quickly followed by the others. Morgan tugged on the doors to the hallway next to theirs, Hotch, having been the only one to remember his Id card, swiped it through the scanner as Morgan flung the doors open. They ran to the open door and stopped just inside as they saw the scene before them.

Pinned, sitting against the wall, screaming was Sherlock. Monroe was helping Curly pin his legs to the floor as Pinkie and Lady held his arms down. He was thrashing wildly against them as they looked to the Agents and then to each other. After a few seconds, the screaming died down, turning into choked sobs and they all hesitantly let go of his limbs. Lady quickly sat down next to him, he curled into her as she spoke softly to him in what Rossi understood as Italian. Monroe and Curly looked at each other before Monroe stood and guided the Agents into the Hallway with Curly shutting the door behind her. 

"What was that?" JJ asked hesitantly

"Just a nightmare."

"Do you all get ...nightmares like that?" JJ asked again 

"No," She took in a breath "But, he's our team leader, he gets it the worst."

"Is he okay?" Garcia jumped in worriedly.

"He will be," Monroe answered. "L's with him."

"Are they-?" Prentiss said.

"Dating?" Monroe laughed, "We get that a lot. They were dating for the years we were undercover, I guess some things just stick." 

"How long were you-?" Morgan began 

"Almost three years." She turned cold as she answered and turned toward the door, "We'll see you tomorrow, Goodnight Agents." And with that she went back inside and shut the door, leaving the agents in the hallway.

They gathered in Hotch's room, Garcia, Prentiss and JJ sat on the end of his bed whilst Rossi sat as the desk opposite. Hotch himself stood at the doorway watching Morgan pace. 

"That wasn't just a nightmare," JJ started.

"That looked like severe PTSD Hotch," Prentiss looked up at the man who was now staring at the floor. "He's nineteen for fucks sake!"

"He's far too young, especially to be a unit chief Aaron, look what they've put him through. How long, how long has this been going on. Five years? He was fourteen Aaron, FOUR _ -FUCKING- _ TEEN!" Rossi yelled in Hotch's direction. 

Hotch kept his head lowered as his team stared at him, "There's nothing I can do." He finally said, defeated 

"What do you mean there's nothing-" JJ was cut off.

"He's their team leader. He outranks me, and well, they don't seem awful keen to open up to us." He sighed and looked at his confused team. "As soon as Morgan asked about their undercover work, she closed off and left."

"Just like on the plane," Morgan realised, "Just like when we couldn't profile them."

"Do you think they've been trained?" Prentiss asked.

"To turn it on and off like they did?" Rossi answered "It would take years of intense and specialised training, but the way she reacted when she was asked about the undercover work? That was subconscious. She's been conditioned to do that."

"Is that, is that what i.t.t is?" Garcia questioned hesitantly.

"Where did you hear that?" Rossi asked 

"I overheard them talking about it at dinner, that's why, um, Sherlock he wasn't at dinner, they said he had i.t.t." 

"I don't know." Rossi said, "It could be-"

"It's not." Prentiss interrupted numbly.

"Then what does it-" Garcia stared. 

"I.t.t," She paused, "Also known as, Interrogation and  **_ torture  _ ** training." She looked to the floor. Morgan stopped pacing. 

Garcia gasped and covered her mouth. Hotch looked up and stared straight at her. JJ put her head in her hands. Rossi made the sign of the cross. 

"...When they said he got it worse, I didn't, I didn't think they meant" JJ whispered hoarsely, then looked up. "They're just kids."

"Torture?" Garcia murmured. "He was being tortured?"

"Yeah," Prentiss answered quietly. 

"Why, why would they do that?" Garcia asked again 

"To make sure, when they're tortured for real, they don't say anything. No matter what."

Garcia sat in horrified silence. 

"It explains the screaming," Morgan said.

"What it doesn't explain is why they were holding him down," JJ added. 

"He was either trying to fight back or hurt himself," Prentiss answered. 

After a moment of silence, Hotch spoke: "They knew what they were doing." He sighed "This has definitely happened before." 

***

The next morning it wasn't screaming but a loud buzzer the woke the Agents. Hotch rolled over to check his phone for the time. Six-thirty exactly, a wake-up call. He rolled out of bed and went to get ready, 15 minutes more sleep wouldn't kill his Agents. He grabbed his key-card last second as he was stepping through the door and started to make his way down the corridor knocking on their doors to wake them up. He made his way downstairs and after asking for directions, found the dining hall. He expected to be one of the first in there however the teenagers had beaten him, and were almost finished. He grabbed some breakfast, sat at a table and waited for the rest of his team. Prentiss came down first, followed by Rossi, JJ, Morgan and finally Garcia.

"Looks like they beat us," Morgan nodded to the Operatives sitting across the room. 

"They were down before I was," Hotch answered, "Im guessing they're used to six-thirty starts." 

"Poor kids," Garcia said.

"Babygirl it's not that bad."

"Morgan it's conditioning," Rossi corrected.

"It's what?"

"Conditioning, they're conditioning them to wake up early." 

"It's not that bad." 

"Morgan that's just part of it. They're conditioning them to do other things as well, like the blank sate they go into when we can't profile them. "

"Or pulling their guns on us," Garcia added.

"That only happened once babygirl." 

"No, that Sherlock boy pulled his gun on me last night when he was expecting that other girl." 

"Oh my god," JJ said.

"It wasn't his fault, it was like a reflex, as soon as he saw it was me he put it down and apologised. It was like he was a different person."

"Do you think outside of here, when they're really being themselves and not what they've been trained to be? Do you think we would recognise them?" JJ asked.

"I don't think we would recognise them if they were one of us," Hotch replied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> foreshadowing who?


	5. Hey, Taylor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penelope meets Taylor and starts matchmaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone that's actually read this. And if you've left kudos, you have just made my 2020.  
> This started as just something I thought about to help me sleep, and the fact that in total, its nearly 10,000 words is shocking. I love you all <3

"Agents," A man in a black suit walked up to the table, "My name is Sly, I'll be your liaison whilst you're here. Im here to escort you to the conference room for a briefing." 

"Thank you, I'm Agent Hotchner."

"Don't worry, I know who you are." 

The rest of the team stood up with Hotch and followed Sly to the conference room. The Operatives were already sat at the near end of the oval table. Four of them seemed to be playing poker whilst one of them sat at the head of the table observing. One of the girls pushed some red skittles into the pile on the table. 

"Call," She said smugly as the Agents moved to sit at the other end of the table. 

"Fold," the boy next to her sighed, putting his cards down on the table. 

"Why aren't they all playing?" JJ whispered to Rossi.

"I don't know," He whispered back, "Maybe he's no good." 

Just that second, the Director walked in and stood between the two groups. 

"Operative one," He said sternly. 

"I didn't," The boy answered quickly.

"Very well, let's start the briefing." 

***

"... and Operative one, you will take Miss Garcia through the computer system." 

"Yes, sir." 

The Director left and immediately the Operatives relaxed, turning back into teenagers. 

"Ha," Lady laughed at Curly, "You got the dickhead." 

"Shut up, Lady," He grumbled back. 

"Guys, stop it they're staring, and I don't think they actually know who we are, so go get whichever ones yours and move it." Sherlock stepped in before the bickering started. "Now, Go!"

The rest of his team reluctantly stood up and went to  _ collect  _ their member of the BAU team. Sherlock waited until last, making sure they all left, just catching Lady's eye on her way out. 

"Miss Garcia," He put on his best welcoming face.

"Sherlock," She gives him a huge smile back, "Hopefully, now you can show me that computer system of yours." 

"Of course, follow me."

She followed him through the corridors for so long she wasn't entirely sure if this was just some ploy to get her lost in the east wing forever. Eventually, however, they came to a room with a couple of desk chairs, a large desk, a sofa and part of a gigantic supercomputer. 

"There are another five rooms of just the computer," He said casually, flopping down on the sofa. 

"Holy hell," She eventually breathed out, her mouth still open. 

"Come, sit down," He motioned to one of the desk chairs, "What system do you use." 

She sat, still in awe, "Linux." 

The boy leaned back and spoke, "Hey, Taylor." 

"What-?"

"Good morning Sherlock," An electronic voice spoke back. 

"Taylor, make a new profile. Penelope Garcia, BAU, Bianchi case, clearance level two, use Linux, and um, make it pink." 

Suddenly the lights on the servers turned pink, and a pop up appeared on the screen. 

"You need to make a typed password before you can complete voice recognition," Sherlock explained. 

"Oh okay," She typed a password into the box on the screen. 

"Welcome, Penelope," The same electronic voice said.

"Holy shit." 

"It's cool right?" 

"It's incredible, how do I use it?"

A few hours later, they were deep into their research. Garcia was in no way holding back on her chatty personality, and Sherlock had warmed to her. They chatted for a while as they worked, she told him about some of the cases the BAU worked. He told her some of what they did at the CIA. 

"This will take a while to get approved by the NSA," She said as she sent off the request for files. 

"Yeah, they really need a better system."

"So," She spun round in her chair to face him, "Lets talk." 

"What about?" He asked hesitantly.

"What about last night?" She said, and his face immediately dropped.

"It was just a nightmare-"

"As much as I'm sure my friends want me to ask about that," She cut him off, "I want to know about your friend."

"My friend? ... Oh, Lady?"

"Is that her name, the one that was talking to you in Italian?"

"Yeah that's her, what about her?"

"You two seem really close." 

"Yeah, I guess we are. We went undercover together, as a couple. It gave us excuses to talk and go off alone together," Sherlock explained.

"How long was that for?" 

"About three years." 

Now Penelope Garcia might not be a profiler, but she knew, exactly what she was about to do. "Tell you what, I don't think  ** I  ** could pretend to date someone for that long without falling in love with them for real."

A few hours later, they had settled back into their work. Sherlock was still thinking about what Garcia had said earlier, not that she noticed. It was nearing lunch when Curly walked in. 

"Hey Sherly do you have a-," He looked up to see them working, "Shit sorry for interrupting," He turned to face Sherlock, "Do you have a light?" 

"Yeah," He dug around in his back pocket and pulled out a lighter, "Here ya go." 

"Your the best," Curly said as he left.

"You smoke?" Garcia asked.

"Yeah."

"All of you?" 

"No um, Pinkie doesn't, says his mother would turn in her grave. And Lady only takes drags from ours if one of us is smoking." 

"And they let you?" 

"Probably," He said casually.

"They don't know?" 

"If they do, they haven't said anything."

"But how, the only place to smoke is outside, they would see you." 

He laughed, "The smoke alarms in our rooms haven't worked since we were sixteen. And even if they do, they know it's better than the alternative." 

Garcia couldn't say anything, she just looked him with a horrified, pitiful look. A look which he'd seen plenty of times before. 

"Come on," He said, standing up and looking at the clock, "Time for lunch." 

"Thanks for showing me the system, it was really nice," Garcia said as they walked towards the canteen.

"That's okay, it's my job." 

"I know, I just thought you guys didn't really like us."

"You're an okay one," Sherlock laughed, "But you're not wrong."

"Oh." 

"It's nothing personal, just none of us like extra personnel on our case, especially profilers." 

"Why not profilers?" 

"They have an annoying need to know everything all the time, be the best in the room." 

"Oh yeah, tell me about it," She laughed in response as they got to the canteen. 

Sherlock looked at his watch, "Lunch finishes at one-thirty, I'll meet you back here, okay."

"Yeah okay, one-thirty." 

She watched as he walked towards his friends, turning from a well-spoken, mini-Hotch back into a teenager. He reached over Curly's shoulder to wrestle the lighter out of his hand before eventually holding it up, victorious. It was so easy to forget they were still kids it-

"You okay baby girl?"

"What?"

"I said, you okay?" 

"Yeah, Im fine," She smiled.

"Sure?" 

"Yeah."

"Let's get some food then." 

"Okay."


	6. (Re)evaluation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BAU find out why they're actually on the case.The Operatives show off some of their skills. Garcia's words get under Sherlock's skin and he starts to rethink his feelings towards Lady.

"What was your's like," Morgan asked the table as he sat down with a plateful of inedible food. 

"What?" Prentiss looked up.

"Your _Operative,_ " He looked at his plate distastefully.

"Oh," She replied. "Not bad, a little hostile, you?"

"He hated me." 

"What do you expect," JJ interjected. "They did call you, and I quote _'the dickhead'_."

"Well, what about you, JJ?" Morgan moved the attention over to her.

"She was nice, hesitant and a bit quiet, but less aggressive than the others." 

"Babygirl, what about your's?"

"He was a bit reserved at first, but there's no introverted wall Penelope Garcia can't break down," She grinned. "Did you know him and Prentiss' girl pretended to date for like three years when they were undercover? I can't even imagine _pretending_ to love someone for that long without actually falling in love." 

"Well they are **very** well trained," Rossi sat down with Hotch. 

"But still," She rambled. "Three years and everyone you know thinks you're a couple. I couldn't do it." 

The chatter continued whilst they ate, both about the Operatives and their own lives. It was nice to be able to chat without a dead body fresh on their minds. However, the small talk could only last so long, they were profilers of course, and without a case, they were circling sharks. 

"So Hotch," Prentiss piped up. "What exactly **is** the case we're working on?" 

Hotch sighed and put down his fork. "Do you remember the case we worked last year, the Mob killings?" 

"Yeah," Morgan replied. "The profile was pretty much perfect, but there wasn't enough evidence to prosecute." 

"Well, the kid was right, our profile was off."

"What?" Rossi said in shock.

"The killings were part of a CIA undercover task force. Sherlock wasn't lying, he killed Lorenzo Bianchi, and the CIA staged the scenes to _influence_ our profile."

"So why are we here?" JJ asked. "I thought we were just adding onto our current profiles on the Mob members." 

"We are," Hotch explained. "But for a more in-depth profile, they also want us to profile them when their agents go back undercover." 

"So we're going undercover?" Garcia asked. 

"No," Hotch quickly answered. "We'll work with their handlers." 

"And who **are** their handlers?" Prentiss questioned.

"Operatives four and five." 

"Wait," Morgan stared in disbelief. "You're telling me, not only did they put three kids deep undercover, but the people in charge of them were also kids!" 

"I am." 

"Holy shit," Rossi whispered. 

***

"Agents," Sly approached the table. 

"Sly?" Hotch asked as if he couldn't remember his name. "Is something wrong?" 

"There's been a change of plan and the Director would like you to observe Operatives One, Two and Three in a training and evaluation sequence." 

"Why?" Morgan asked. 

"So you may examine the team's dynamics and how they work out on the field." 

"Of course," Hotch answered quickly before any of his team could interrogate the Sly any further. "What time?" 

"If you're ready? Right now." The team looked to each other, but none of them answered the man. "Let's go." 

They followed Sly through the hallways until they arrived at a training room. The door Sly led them through, read certifiers gallery. On the other side of the one-way glass stood Curly, Sherlock and Lady. All three held the same standard-issue Glock seventeen in their hands as they walked around the room checking on things. A few moments later, Sherlock waved the other two back to him, and they began to talk. His hands moved with purpose as he spoke although they couldn't quite hear what he was saying. 

"Hey Taylor," Sherlock eventually spoke into the room. 

"Taylor?" Rossi asked. "Is there another one we don't know about?"

"It's a super-computer," Garcia explained, still looking through the glass. "It's voice-activated." 

They missed what else he said, but a few seconds later, the lights in both rooms darkened. The BAU team watched on, holding their breathes as the Operatives waited in the darkness. Suddenly a target sprung forward, making Garcia gasp. One of them shot it, the mechanisms let the target go, and it floated to the ground. The room went back into suspenseful silence. Then suddenly, in quick succession, targets flew at them in every direction. The Operatives were just as quick, and soon targets were falling as fast as they were coming at them. At one point it looked as if a target was going to hit Curly as he covered Lady's right side. But Sherlock had noticed and turned quickly shooting it and reminding Curly to watch his own back. This clearly put Curly off, and a few minutes later, the lights flashed red. 

"Training sequenced failed." 

"Shit!" Curly swore. 

"Hey, it's okay," Lady put her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. 

"I fucked it." 

"We can just go again," Sherlock walked over. 

"I got distracted, I should have been watching myself," He stressed. 

"Let's go again," Sherlock eased. 

"No! I-" 

"CURLY!" He yelled, in a serious tone, making Curly turn and face him. "Let's go again." 

"Okay." 

This time went without a hitch, and as the lights turned on, the same electronic voice spoke. 

"Training sequence passed." 

"Fuck yeah!" Lady squealed. Curly beamed and turned to hug her. Sherlock just watched on from where he stood, smiling.

It was easy to forget they were shooting with perfect accuracy only moments ago. Right now they just looked like happy teenagers. 

"Hey," Lady turned to Sherlock once she let go of Curly. "You can be excited for a minute before we do another one, can't you?" 

He pretended to think for a second, "Maybe." 

"Fuck off," She grinned and ran over to him. He wrapped his arms around her lower back as she hugged him, picking her up slightly. 

"Come on," He put her back down. "We have five more sequences before we can even think about being complete." 

"Wait, only five, are we finishing early?" Curly walked over. 

"I wish, its six through eleven so we'll be here for hours." 

"Fucking kill me." 

Before they could set up for a different scenario. Sly came back into the room the BAU were in. 

"Agents, we have a conference room set up for you, follow me."

***

"So what!" Morgan threw his hands up. "They're like mini, brainwashed, tortured, contract killers now?"

No one replied, tired of Morgans ranting and instead everyone looked to Hotch for an answer. 

"Don't look at me, I'm just trying to do my job." 

"He's right you can't just ignore this Aaron," Rossi argued. 

"What else am I meant to do," Hotch looked defeated. "Can we just get on with the profile please?" 

Morgan shook his head in disdain but sat down anyway. "Victimology." 

***

Hours later the Operatives were complete, they trailed up to their rooms muscles aching all over. Lady split ways from Sherlock and Curly and walked down her own corridor. She knocked on Monroe's door on her way past, no answer, so she let herself in. She wasn't inside, but Lady wasn't worried, Monroe and Pinkie often finished up later than the rest them. Dinner was a few hours away, and all she could think of was a burning hot shower. And swapping out her CIA branded leggings and sports top for CIA branded joggers and hoodie. 

Sherlock's wasn't as easily content as Lady. The words Garcia had said to him earlier were still racing around his head. 

_"Tell you what, I don't think I could pretend to date someone for that long without falling in love with them for real."_

He'd never thought about how he felt about L. He loved her, of course he loved her, he had to, it was his job. But the lines between real and fake were becoming more and more blurred as he stepped back and looked at it. He had a metric fuck ton of thinking to do and where better to do that than the shower. 

Curly woke up to a banging on his door. He squinted in the light of his room, fuck he must have fallen asleep straight after training. 

"Curly," It was Pinkie. "Wake the fuck up!"

"Ughh," He groaned, his arm was asleep. 

"It's dinner, and I'm fucking starving you little shit, you better get up."

"Okay, okay, I'm up, I'm up," He walked to the door, wincing as he opened it. 

"Jesus, you look like shit." 

"I fell asleep right after training."

"Figured." 

"Where's Sherlock?" 

"I said I'd wake you up so he could go and eat." 

"Best get going then." 

The shower hadn't helped him to clear his head, and his feelings for L were all up in the air. He spent his time before the others arrived trying to wrap his head around all the shit running around it. He could understand pretty much any formula you put in front of him but ask him to explain how he felt, his brain froze. 

"Sherly you okay?" Monroe asked as she and Lady walked over. 

"Yeah, why?" He snapped his head up from his plate of untouched food.

"You look a million miles away," Lady smiled at him and came to sit next to him. 

"I promise you," He smiled back at her. "I'm right here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a goddamn CIA update. I'm hoping to catch this up to CIA again in the next update and I'm excited for what I have planned.   
> Leave a comment with any idea's I have a 10,000-word doc with just excess from this series. <3


	7. Acting yourself.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone notices that Sherlock's acting weird and he takes care of Lady when she can't do it herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// Being drugged - NO assault of any kind -

"Do you think there's something wrong with Sherlock?" Lady asked Monroe as they walked back from dinner.

"No, why?" 

"I don't know, he seems off, I'm worried about him." 

"You're always worried about him." 

"What!" She defended. "No, I'm not." 

"Yes, you are."

"How am I always worried about him?" She asked as they walked into Monroe's bedroom. 

"Okay," She started lying back on her bed. "For one thing if anything happens at all, you're by his side in like five seconds." 

"No, I'm not!" She protested. 

"L I'm pretty sure you have a baby monitor set up in case he wakes up." 

"You're ridiculous."

"Am I? Whenever he's in ITT you can barely even look at any of us until you know he's okay." 

"Whatever," Lady gave in. "I worry about him, who cares." 

"You! You **care** about him." 

"I **care** about all of you Mon." 

"You know what I mean, you notice the little things. You know how to calm him down when he's having a nightmare. You know how to stop him shutting us out when something goes wrong. You **care** about him L, and ... I think he cares about you." 

"That's all just- wait what," She stopped suddenly. "What did you just say." 

"I said you care about him," Monroe replied innocently.

"No after that." 

"I said ... I think he cares about you." 

"Why would you - what, what does that even mean." 

"Just, he cares about you too. Like um, he knows how to cheer you up after a shit day. He always watches your back in training even if he knows you don't need it. And he says things to you in Italian, which none of the rest of us can understand, but it always makes you smile." 

"We just have to spend a lot of time together," She reasoned.

"I mean you guys were a couple for the last three years," Monroe laughed. "No one's surprised." 

"I guess you're right." 

"Anyway, do you want to play poker or not?" 

"Oh yeah, I'm taking all your skittles." 

"No chance!"

And as Lady shuffled the cards, the conversation was forgotten. 

A few hours later, tongue stained with skittles Lady made her way across to her own room and went to bed. Her conversation with Monroe passed through her mind as she fell asleep, but she didn't think much else on it. Sure she and Sherlock spent a lot of time together, they had to. They knew each other inside out, that's just what happens when you spend all your time together. When you have to rely on each other for everything, when the only person you can trust is each other. And anyway, the FBI were here now, she had more important things to worry about. 

***

Pinkie would swear until the day he died that that buzzer was the bane of his existence. Not because it woke him up, because it went off twenty minutes after he woke up, like an insult that he wouldn't be awake. The first thing he always did, if Sherlock wasn't already doing it, would be to bang on Curly's door. The boy was a textbook oversleeper, and if he was late, they were all late, so getting him up was top priority. Soon afterwards girls came to their corridor to wait for Curly with them, but there was something wrong. 

Everyone knew Lady and Sherlock shared something. So when she walked through the door and instead of saying good morning, Sherlock avoided Lady's gaze, Pinkie knew something was up. 

He banged on the door again, "Curly, get the fuck up!" 

"I'm up, I'm up," He opened the door into the awkward atmosphere everyone had now noticed. "Um, shall we go?"

"Definitely," Monroe answered quickly. 

"What the fuck is going on with those two?" Pinkie whispered to Monroe as they walked down to breakfast. 

"I don't know?" She whispered back. "L said she noticed something was off with him yesterday, but I only just noticed it this morning." 

"Weird, I would have said they'd had an argument, but I've never seen them fight, did she say anything?" 

"Nope, she's definitely worried about him though." 

"I'd hope so, those two are so sickeningly in love I'm surprised they haven't figured it out yet." 

"You two talking about the lovebirds?" Curly walked up behind the pair. 

"You noticed?" Monroe said. 

"I'm not blind." 

"Did anything happened at training yesterday?" She asked. 

"Other than the fact I completely fucked a sequence? No, not really." 

"Then I don't think there's much-" 

"Hey what are you three whispering about?" Lady cut in.

"What? Nothing." 

"Pink, you're a shit liar," Monroe said. "Just talking about the Agents." 

"Okay, no need to be so weird about it." 

"Yeah, jeez Pinkie," Curly smiled. 

"Shut up Curly." 

***

Rossi wasn't used to getting up this early, not since he was in the army. The buzzer hurt his ears, but it was at least an effective alarm clock. Hotch was down before him, of course he was, it was Hotch. Prentiss came down soon after, which he actually found surprising, he didn't take her for an early-riser. 

The food, of course, was abysmal, but the coffee was tolerable, and he had already had two cups by the time Garcia finally joined them. Across the room, the Operatives were already finished and were now talking. Although Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. 

"How did you sleep?" Garica asked.

"About as well as I could on those sucky mattresses," He replied. 

"I hear ya," Morgan said, mouth full of eggs. 

"Gross," Prentiss retorted.

"Morgan chew with your mouth closed, Jesus Christ," JJ said. 

He rolled his eyes but did close his mouth. 

"So what are we doing today?" Monroe asked when Sherlock walked back to the table. 

"Working with the Agents."

"What again?" Curly said. 

"Yeah, but this time as a team to finalise the profiles we worked on yesterday." 

Sherlock sat down next to Curly. Pinkie, Lady and Monroe, were having a heated discussion about which one of the FBI agents had the biggest daddy issues. Pinkie was decided on Hotchner, Lady on Garcia and Monroe on Morgan. He took the opportunity whilst Lady wasn't looking, to drop something in her drink. 

"You're not serious?" Curly said in horror. 

"He said we're going back in a few days." 

"What is it?"

"I don't know," He sighed. "I guess we'll find out."

"You're gonna have quite the morning." 

"What?" 

"It's your job to look after her." 

"Why can't one of you do it," He panicked. 

"Because when we're out, you'll be the one who has to help her."

"Fuck," He looked over to the Agents who were talking to Sly. "Come on guys, finish your drinks, were in conference room five." 

He watched L gulp down the rest of her coffee, a wave of guilt came over him, but he pushed it down, it was just his job, he didn't care. 

***

Both Mercury one and the BAU were sat around the oval conference room table files scattered between them. Sherlock was helping Morgan and Rossi with a profile on Franco, the boss of the whole operation. He kept one eye on Lady, it was nearing the forty-minute mark, depending on what he put into her drink it could be kicking in soon. He was right, a few minutes later, her head started to droop. She caught his eye as he stared in worry. 

"Did you..." She slurred.

He nodded apologetically, the rest of the table looked over. 

"Are you okay?" JJ asked in concern. 

"I'm, m ' fin -fin -fine," Her head rolled back, and she stared blankly into space.

Sherlock was worried, he had to get her out of there if anything bad happened, a room full of people gawking at her, wasn't what she needed. "Let's go," He picked her up, bridal style, with surprising ease. 

"M' kay," She mumbled. 

The BAU watched them leave, eye's wide and mouths hung open in confusion. As soon as they were out of sight, their attention turned to the other members of Mercury one. 

"What the fuck was that?" Prentiss asked. 

"My bet's on Ketamine," Curly answered. 

"What do you mean?" Hotch said. 

"Well, it only took-" Curly started. 

"I think what the Agents were asking," Monroe cut him off. "Is why was she drugged in the first place." 

"Oh, well-" 

"It's so she can develop a tolerance," Pinkie took over the explaining. "In case it ever happens for real, she won't pass out completely." 

"So he drugged her?" JJ asked. "And now he's just taking her away." 

"Sherlock and Lady are a team, if she gets drugged for real, he's the one who will have to take care of her." Monroe defended. "And the Director decides when it happens, he just administers the dose."

"Will she be okay," Garcia's voiced was coated with worry. 

"Yeah," Pinkie comforted. "They've done this before, she's in good hands." 

The team looked thoroughly unconvinced but carried on with the profiles regardless. At this point, they knew wouldn't get any more information out of them if they tried. 

***

"What's happnin?" Lady groaned as Sherlock carried her upstairs. 

"You're going to bed." 

"Huh, why I jus got up." 

"I'll explain later, you won't remember if I tell you now."

"M' kay." 

She tried to bury her head into the crook of his neck as he continued the walk to her room. He hoped she couldn't feel how hard his heart was beating in his chest. Seeing her like this, completely vulnerable caused a surge of protectiveness to wash over him. But only because he was the team leader, it was his job to keep her safe, and definitely not because he- 

_"Siamo quasi arrivati?"_

_"Quasi."_

Italian wasn't a good sign, she was probably close to falling unconscious. Luckily he wasn't lying, they had just got to her room where he quickly put her down on the bed. 

"L," He said. "Lady?" She gave no response. So he crouched down next to her and placed a hand on her cheek as he spoke softly. _"Tesoro."_

"Mmm."

"Can you open your eyes for me?" 

Her eyes pried open, and he smiled at her. 

"You're bein normal again," She whispered happily as her eyes reclosed. 

"I'm wha- no, L open your eyes," She did as she was told, and he let out a sigh of relief, taking his hand off her cheek and standing up. 

"Where you going?" She frantically grabbed for his hand. "Don't go, please don't."

He sat back down next to her bed, still holding her hand, "I promise you, I'm not going anywhere." 

She let out a relieved smile in return, "Can I sleep now?"

"No L -L you need to stay awake, open your eyes for me."

"M' tired." 

"I know," He squeezed her hand. "Why don't you sit up?" 

She shifted slightly in an attempt to move, "Can't." 

"Do you need me to help you?" He laughed. 

"Don't laugh' ft me," She pouted. "Not my fault I’m all drugged up." 

"I'm not gonna help you if you're gonna be rude," He stood up. 

"No, m' sorry, please." 

He rolled his eyes and helped her to sit against her headboard. As soon as he let go, she started to fall over. She looked up at him, eyes wide with panic, without much control of her limbs, there wasn't much she could do to stay upright.

"It's okay," He sat down behind her, pulling her into his chest. His legs on either side of her for support. "It'll be over soon."

"I'm scared." 

"I know," He took her hand into his and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "You'll be okay." 

"Y' won't leave me, right?" 

"I'll be right here," Her head fell back onto his shoulder, and she smiled at him. 

_"Fuck," He thought "I might actually be in love with this girl."_

(Are we almost there?)

(Nearly.)

(darling.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early valentines day special.  
> I pushed back my plans for this to the next chapter (hopefully) and I'm so excited. Tell me what you think and leave a kudos if you like <3


	8. Notes reveal all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets a little ... stuck. And the BAU find clues to the Operatives past, hidden between the lines of their notes

A little under an hour later, Lady re-entered the conference room. Alone. 

"Lady," Monroe scolded. "What did you do with Sherlock?" 

"I handcuffed him to my bed." 

Curly laughed but looked guiltily away when Monroe glared at him. 

"Why would you do that?" 

"He drugged me," Lady crossed her arms. 

"L, you know he didn't want to," Pinkie interjected. "It was just orders." 

"Yeah, I know," She sat smugly. "But I'm not going to pass up an opportunity to handcuff him to a bed." 

"You're ridiculous," Monroe sighed. 

"Wait," Morgan interrupted. "You guys have handcuffs? You can arrest people?" 

All four of them burst out laughing at this. Morgan looked _just a little_ butthurt. Curly was still heaving with laughter as Lady answered. 

"We," She gestured to her friends. "Don't have handcuffs. However, **_I_ **do." 

His eyes widened in shock, Rossi snickered a little, and everyone else stared down at their files, freshly scarred.

About ten minutes, later; it became apparent that Lady wasn't in any kind of rush to go unlock Sherlock. The profile Morgan and Rossi were supposed to be working on was desperate for his input. No one else could decipher his notes. But to be honest, they were absolutely terrified of asking her to go get him. 

"L," Pinkie eventually said. "Are you planning to unlock Sherlock anytime soon?" 

"Not particularly."

"Then _will_ you go unlock him ... please?" 

"If you want," She sighed, pushing her chair away from the table and leaving the room. 

Lady purposely walked up to her room at snail's pace. It wasn't often she got to handcuff Sherlock to her bed anymore (unfortunately). And she wasn't going to waste the opportunity, once he drugged her, to do so. She was also hoping that maybe once she came back up that he would be acting less ... _weird._ She blamed the FBI agents. Nothing was weird. Nothing was wrong with him until they showed up. And now he was acting different, avoiding her gaze, being all jumpy and nervous. They were about to go back out; it would only be a few days now. If they couldn't pull it together, they were fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. Talking of which ... the handcuffs. 

"I'm back." 

"Thank god." 

"Rude."

"Sorry, but as much as I love it when you handcuff me to your bed," He said, sarcasm dripping off _almost_ every word. "We have work to do."

"That's what you get for drugging me," She unlocked the handcuffs, letting him sit up. "I can't even remember what I ate for breakfast." 

"Like I had a choice," Sherlock rubbed at his wrists. "Director's orders." 

"I know." 

"Then why did you have to lock me up."

"Feeling nostalgic." 

"Y 'know, I bet Agent Morgan would totally get off on this," He stood.

"Really? I would have bet on the old guy."

"Rossi?" She nodded. "I guess I can see it."

They began walking back towards the conference room in reasonably comfortable silence. But just as Sherlock was about to walk in, Lady stopped him.

"Are you okay?" There was genuine concern in her eyes, and it threw him off-kilter. 

"What?" He laughed, trying to ease the anxiety settling in the pit of his stomach. "L, you know I'm not angry about you handcuffing me-."

"No, not that. It's just that you've been off for a few days, and I know it's probably just the stress of going back, but-" 

"Hey," He squeezed her arm in reassurance. "Stop freaking out. You're right; It's just the stress of going back. I'm fine." 

She looked at him sceptically. "You're sure?" 

"I am." 

***

"No," Sherlock said. "There's no chance we'll ever get to arrest Franco. He keeps his hands _sparkling_." 

"But you said he ordered all this stuff," Morgan pointed to the list out in front of him. 

"He did, but there's no evidence of it. I'm pretty sure he and Angelo had a telepathic connection." 

"And Angelo was?" 

"The underboss," He explained. "Angelo took orders from Franco and gave them to us to pass on to Soldiers." 

"So no matter how good a profile we make on this guy, he'll never be arrested?"

"It's not likely." 

"So why are we even doing this." 

"In case he fucks up." 

"And will he?" 

"No." 

The case files were piled up around them. Stacks upon stacks of notes jammed into CIA folders. They worked together in small groups to go through them. Slowly building profiles on some of the most private and lucrative men in New York. 

Some notes were in neat black ink, which the Agents could read themselves. Whilst others were scribbled in a coded mix of languages. Which they needed whoever wrote them to translate. 

The worst notes were by far Sherlocks. Every other word was either uncomprehensible or in a completely different language than the one before it. Though the information that was in them was invaluable, the details almost impossible to believe. He could scan the notes; recite verbatim what was in them, all without needing to look back down at the paper. Rossi could smell the trust issues wafting off the pages. No one writes notes like that if they can trust whoever's reading them. 

Other folders contained crisp, neatly stacked piled of printer paper. These were Pinkie and Monroe's notes. Typed directly into the secure CIA system rather than hidden away in locked draws and handed off in alleyways. Most had lines of text covered over with long black boxes. They reminded JJ of the blackout poetry her teachers made her do in 10th grade. The uncovered words, forming a different story from the one beneath. 

Curly had less in-depth profiles come from his paperwork than Sherlock or Lady. But there was so many more of them. His skill lay in picking out the most significant, identifiable parts of a person. Allowing more people to go away on less evidence. Evidence that would be useful for someone higher up but a waste of time for a soldier or an associate. 

For the first time, there was no conflict at the table. There was a common goal, a mutual understanding of the work that needed to be done. The Operatives, so engrossed in their work that they missed the way the Agents swallowed the bile rising up their throats. The Agents, so horrified by what they were hearing, that they missed the way the Operatives breath shuddered reciting their actions. 

Very quickly, it was time for lunch. 

The BAU sat in silence. They didn't have the teenagers ability to switch off from their work. Not this quickly, at least. The only thing to be heard at their table was the clatter of cutlery of plates. And the background chatter of the canteen. 

On the contrary, the Operatives were chatting away as usual. Their compartmentalising techniques having been drilled into them for close to five years. They had no issues switching off from work. Lunchtime gossip was mostly laughing about Sherlock being the one handcuffed to the bed after **he** drugged Lady. And recounting some of the less disturbing parts of the case files they'd been reading over. 

"Do you seriously not remember!" Pinkie cried. "You spent two hours drunkenly flirting with Lady, and when Sherlock came over, you tried to fight him for her hand." 

Curly, mortified, covered his face with his hands and groaned. "I didn't, did I?"

"You did," Lady laughed. "It was hilarious." 

"You're lucky I didn't take you up on your offer," Sherlock said. "I would have destroyed you."

"I'm _so_ sorry."

"Don't be. I don't think you actually knew it was me." 

"He didn't," Sherlock answered. "I remember he kept saying you look like a friend of his." 

"I was so fucking drunk." 

"No shit, really?" Monroe laughed.

"Like you haven't done anything stupid drunk." 

"Nothing that stupid." 

"So trying to scale the flagpole at two in the morning. That wasn't as stupid as what I did?" 

"No," They chimed simultaneously. 

"You guys are the worst."

"We try our best," Pinkie responded, getting a small laugh from everyone else. 

Lunch was over as quickly as it came, and soon they found themselves sat back in the conference room, reading files. 

They can't have been in there more than forty minutes before Sherlock excused himself. Saying he had some things to sort out before they went back and not to wait for him. Hotch moved Morgan to work with him and Curly. Whilst Rossi moved to work with Lady and Garcia. 

Their work continued for hours. Tedious but methodical, stacks of notes becoming profile after profile. Unlike most of their job, the BAU didn't have to dig for many clues. It was clear that a part of the Operatives training had been how to pick out the relevant information needed for a profile. Hotch noted there were the clear foundations of a profiler layn out amongst them. If only he knew their names, they could use people like this in the BAU. 

"I've just gotta use the bathroom. I'll be back in a minute." 

Eventually, the coffee Prentiss had been drinking caught up to her, and she made her way to the bathroom. She didn't actually know where the bathroom was, and she wandered around, hoping to stumble into them. But every time she turned a corner, she seeming ended up at the start of the corridor she just came from. Luckily, after about ten minutes of searching, she found them, like a mirage in the desert, her saviour. 

...

Now she had to find her way back. There wasn't exactly any landmarks she could use to navigate her way to the conference rooms, nor any maps. _'Makes the place harder to rob,'_ she thought. _'It's barely worth the effort.'_ One empty hallway ended onto another identical one, and she was about to call someone to come find her when she heard a noise. Ragged breathing, choked sobs. Without stopping to think, she ran towards the sound. 

It was Sherlock. 

Pressed against the wall. Knees shoved into his chest. Trying to make himself as small as possible. His breathing; shallow and shaking. 

She stared in shock, eyes drifting to the room next to him, door slightly ajar. It had one word, just three letters, printed on it. 

I.T.T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agghhh, I keep pushing back my plans for this. It's pre-written but I need to get there.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was really fun to write.  
> I made a Pinterest board of the Operatives vibes and stuff if you want to check it out - https://www.pinterest.co.uk/catdarcey/cia/ (don't judge the rest of my boards to harshly)  
> Lemme know what you thought <3


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